Blackout
by The Batchild
Summary: A winter storm causes a blackout in New York and puts a damper on Quinn and Steve's Friday night ritual, leaving them to find something else to do to pass the time... - Steve/OC. Part 11 of the Undisclosed series.


_November 20th, 2012  
__New York City, New York—Quinn's apartment_

Quinn Scott stood at the window and watched the snow falling fast and thick, adding more to the mountainous drifts already lining the street outside her apartment. The golden-orange glow of the streetlights reflecting on the snow was absent in the wake of the blackout, and everything looked alien and weird, lit silver by whatever moonlight that managed to sneak through the clouds. It was kind of pretty, though it all looked as cold as it probably was, and Quinn had never been a big fan of the extreme cold. Luckily, Quinn's apartment was bathed in the light and warmth of every candle she owned.

Which was a lot for someone who never thought to buy them.

She pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders and sighed, dropping her head against the chilly glass. She'd lit the candles as soon as it became clear the lights weren't coming back on, and then made a cozy nest of blankets and pillows on the couch intending to pass the time reading or something, since it was too early to go to bed. She had quickly become restless as her bad leg had gotten stiffer and stiffer and started pacing the apartment, trying to warm up or tire herself out enough to sleep, just to pass the time.

Also, it turned out reading by candlelight was not easy.

She turned her eyes to the figures she could see struggling through the snow, studying them for something to do. They were trying to dig out cars—where did they think they'd be able to drive to in this? No one was going anywhere by car for a day at the very least—or make paths on which to walk, to get somewhere safe and warm. It was difficult to make out many details with the lack of light and the curtain of snowflakes, but Quinn narrowed her eyes and tried, cataloguing what she could make out.

One figure in particular caught her eye—one who was doing what he could to help those he passed, and who had little trouble moving through the rapidly accumulating snow.

Quinn smiled to herself, privately marvelling at her ability to recognize Steve Rogers from such a distance. Through the snow. In the dark.

Who was she kidding? She would know Steve anywhere.

She watched him until he entered the building, and then she turned away from the window and headed for the front door of her apartment, planning to meet Steve in the hall. A thrill moved through her chest at the idea of seeing him, which was silly. It hadn't been that long since she'd seen him—only a few days—and she should have been expecting him anyway.

It was Friday, and Friday nights were when Quinn and Steve usually got together to watch movies and eat take-out. Since Steve had joined the Strike Team, he'd been a lot busier—Director Fury had a seemingly endless supply of things that needed doing—so their movie nights had sort of fallen by the wayside, but Steve had returned from his last mission that morning, and had promised he'd be there, provided nothing else came up. Even though they couldn't watch a movie, they could still hang out, and Quinn was glad of that. Things had been weird between them for a while, especially since they'd kissed at Tony Stark's Halloween party, and Quinn was hoping they could fix it. They only had another month or so until Steve made the move to Washington, DC, and she didn't want them to part on unsteady ground.

Before Quinn could open her door, there was a knock. He must have run up the stairs. Smiling, her cheeks flushing with warmth, she unlocked the door and pulled it open, revealing Steve Rogers, Captain America, covered in snow and lit only by the single blue-white emergency light in the hall.

"Hey," he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

Quinn let out a little chuckle, clutching her blanket around her shoulders with one hand and holding the door with the other. "Hey there, Mr. Snowman."

Steve laughed as well as he brushed the snow from his hair and shoulders. "I know we can't watch a movie, but are you still up for some company tonight?"

"Very much yes. I'm bored out of my skull." _And I want to spend time with you._

The smile Steve gave Quinn was her favourite—small, private, and it made his eyes shine—and it made her smile in return. "All right. Just let me put on some dry clothes."

"Bring all the candles and flashlights and blankets you have."

"And booze?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, also booze. I only have a couple beers left."

"Would you like some food with that?"

"I already ate—leftover pizza."

They shared one more smile before Steve disappeared into his dark apartment across the hall. He would need very little light to see in the dark, both due to familiarity but also his heightened senses. Leaving her door open, Quinn headed back to her candle-lit living room and settled herself in her nest on her couch. Steve returned a couple moments later, closing the door behind him with his foot. He was now dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, feet bare and hair a ruffled mess. His arms were laden with a few blankets and one hand was wrapped around the neck of a bottle of scotch.

"I didn't have any candles."

"You may want to rectify that once you move in case there's a blackout."

Steve nodded like he was taking the suggestion to heart. They didn't talk about the move much at all, and when they did, it was always in practical terms. "I did have scotch though," he said, lifting the bottle. He shook it a bit, the contents sloshing. "And the bottle's almost full. Guess you hadn't gotten to this one yet."

Quinn gave him an indignant look as he handed her the bottle. "Gee, thanks."

"I didn't have any flashlights either," Steve said as he tossed the blankets on the couch and sat down beside Quinn. "It's a good thing I've got you, or I'd be stuck in the dark."

"Not like that'd make much difference to you," Quinn replied as she opened the bottle. Her one and only flashlight was sitting on the end table, just in case, but she wasn't even sure the batteries worked; she probably should have checked.

Steve made a vague noise of agreement. "Any word from SHIELD?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary going on here, Cap," Quinn said as she wiggled herself deeper into the mound of blankets. With one hand, she pulled one of the blankets Steve had brought over her legs. "Just a shit-ton of snow that no one was prepared for. The other agencies and departments have it covered, but SHIELD's on-call, just in case. I pretty much begged to not be called in unless it was completely necessary, because I do not want to go out in that," she stated before taking a swig from the scotch.

"It's not that cold."

"Hey—you have that whole superhuman resistance to the elements thing going on. It is fucking freezing out there." Quinn took another, longer swig from the booze Steve had provided, sighing as the alcohol spread to her extremities and made her feel a little warmer. She passed the bottle to Steve. "I'm good to stay in here where it's warm. Ish."

Steve looked around as he took a drink. "You've certainly made this place cozy."

"Lighting's a little bit too romantic for my taste, but yeah, it's cozy."

Quinn accepted the bottle when Steve passed it back to her and took another long pull, eager for the warmth, the burn, and the taste. It was good scotch. She ought to know. She'd bought it for him, and she'd tasted her fair share of scotch over the years. It had been Agent Coulson's preferred drink, and there had been many toasts shared over successful Strike Team Delta missions. After passing the bottle back to Steve, Quinn shifted around so she was sitting with her back against the couch arm, facing him. It was easier to see Steve that way. She readjusted the blankets so her legs were better covered, and pulled the one she had draped around her shoulders close again.

"Kinda wish we could still watch a movie," she said.

"What was it going to be tonight?"

"_Star Trek_ from 2009—another one of my favourites."

"That one isn't on the list."

"It is now. Or, it will be, when the power is back on. If we have time."

"I hope we do."

Quinn shifted a bit, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking and with the surge of emotion in her gut. Quinn gazed around the apartment, looking for something else to occupy their time, though she didn't actually mind chatting. Despite the awkwardness peppering their exchanges, talking to Steve had been easy since he'd first woken up. If only they could talk about something other than his impending departure.

"I suppose we could play some board games or something."

Steve shrugged and took another drink of scotch. One eyebrow rose. "It's not like we've got anything better to do, right?"

Quinn opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes met Steve's then and the air between them thickened in a rush, and she was blushing again; thankfully, it was less obvious in the golden light. She knew what else _she_ wanted to do to pass the time.

Since their abrupt kiss at Tony Stark's Halloween party—a kiss they hadn't talked about since that night—something had changed between them, something beyond the weirdness and hesitation. Quinn wasn't sure if the kiss was entirely to blame, since she'd been fighting back her feelings for Steve for months, but harmless moments, comments, and touches had started taking on new meanings in fraught moments, and left Quinn wanting _more_.

_More_ she wasn't sure Steve wanted. _More _she was afraid to voice her desire for. _More _she found herself dreaming of.

She shifted slightly on the couch under Steve's gaze, but she didn't look away.

"Uh… Right."

_Why did I tell him I wanted to kiss him? _she asked herself. That kiss, as good as it had been, as much as she'd loved the thrill it sent through her, had done exactly what Quinn had been afraid it would—it had changed things between them. _And I don't think either of us knows what to do about it._

Quinn climbed off the couch, disengaging from the warmth of the tightly-wrapped blankets, her bad leg moving a little awkwardly as she did; it always acted up in the cold. She crossed the living room to the cabinet where the board games were and pulled _Clue_ off the shelf. The cold air had seeped into her body quickly and, by the time she lowered herself onto the floor, she was shivering slightly. Without being prompted, Steve wrapped a blanket around Quinn's shoulders as he settled on the floor across from her and his touch, even through layers of blankets and clothing, was almost too much with what she had just been thinking. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, telling herself to calm down, banishing the thought of his hand sliding down her back and under her shirt. Along her bare skin.

_Come on, Quinn. Get it to together._

She started setting up the game on the floor between them, and Steve moved a few of the candles closer so she would be able to see. Since Steve had never played before, Quinn filled him in quickly on the rules as she set up the game, and then they started solving their first murder mystery, passing the bottle of scotch back and forth. The tension that had erupted faded in the wake of laughter and game-related trash talk, and it didn't take Quinn long to feel like the moment hadn't happened at all.

She did spare a second to consider that probably meant Steve definitely wasn't feeling the same things she was, and the kiss at Halloween had been a reaction to what she'd said, a fluke. Just a spur of the moment thing that meant nothing. Something would have shown in his features beyond the shock she'd seen. He wasn't that good of a liar.

Right?

"Do you have anything safe to eat?" Steve asked a second round of _Clue_.

"Does beer count?" Steve raised his eyebrow at Quinn and she smirked. "I don't know what's there since I ate the pizza, but you can have a look. Feel free to eat whatever you find. Or you know, go raid your own cupboards. You probably have more food than I do anyway. I haven't been shopping in forever."

Steve flashed a grin as he got to his feet and headed for the kitchen. Quinn had never been into cooking, and usually relied on take-out or the vending machines and cafeteria at work. Every once in a while, she would cook herself food for dinners and lunches, but she hated it.

Quinn caught herself watching Steve walk away and appreciating the way his sweatpants hung from his hips, the way his back muscles moved slightly under his t-shirt—were his t-shirts always so tight across his shoulders? Before he could catch her ogling, Quinn shook her head and focused on putting away the game. She could feel her cheeks flushing. Again. She grabbed a deck of cards, since the rest of her board games tended to be on the more complicated side of things, or required more light. She sat down on the floor with her back against the front of the couch and buried herself under blankets once more. She felt colder than before.

"Damn alcohol," she muttered as she tossed the deck of cards on the floor beside her.

"Does that mean you don't want more?" Steve asked as he re-entered the living room, two bottles of beer from Quinn's fridge in one hand and a sandwich in the other.

Quinn gave Steve another indignant look, which made him laugh, and accepted the proffered booze. She drained much of it in the first drink, and eyed his snack skeptically; beer didn't warm her like spirits did, but she wasn't going to turn it down either. "I had enough stuff to make a sandwich?"

Steve chuckled as he settled on the floor beside her. "No. Your bread is moldy and you've only got pickles and potatoes in your fridge. I ran over to my apartment."

"I had leftover Chinese food in there too. Did you eat it?"

"No. Those leftovers are bad. They smell awful."

Grinning, Quinn readjusted her blankets and took another drink from her beer. "What do you want to do now? I've got cards," she said, brandishing the deck.

"Sure." But as he finished the sandwich, Steve frowned at Quinn. "You're shivering."

"Yeah… I can't seem to get warm. I'm wearing layers and like, three blankets, there are candles _everywhere, _and I am still cold."

"Here." Steve grabbed a blanket from the couch, draped it around his shoulders, and held his arm up so Quinn could curl up beside him the way she sometimes did when they were watching a movie. "I believe it was you who once called me a space heater," Steve said quietly as she snuggled into his side, her head against his chest. Her beer was forgotten somewhere on the floor along with the cards. He wrapped his arm and the blanket around her and her other blankets, and pulled her closer. "Although you _were_ several beers in at the time…"

"Well it's true, alcohol or not. You're like, at least ten degrees warmer than a normal human."

"Five degrees at most."

"What?"

Steve gave a small sigh. "After I was injected with the serum, and after Dr. Erskine died… well, they ran all sorts of tests so they could get a better idea of what they were dealing with." Steve took a drink from his beer and then set it on the end table above and behind him. "They took blood and checked pretty much every inch of me, trying to get enough information so they could recreate the serum and make more super soldiers. In addition to everything else, they found that my temperature ran, at most, five degrees higher than average, although it's usually only three degrees warmer. It's because of my faster metabolism."

Quinn shifted so she could press closer to Steve, curling tighter against him, her fingers balling into a fist around his t-shirt. She tended to hold on to him like that whenever they were that close. She didn't know why, but it felt right somehow, especially when he started thinking about his life before he went into the ice.

"You've never told me much about your life back then," she said quietly. An observation, not an admonishment.

She felt Steve stiffen slightly beneath her, his fingers digging into her side where his hand was resting. He sighed again, exhaling slowly. "I… don't like talking about it," he said. "Thinking about what I missed out on, what I…"

Quinn sat up and turned so she could see Steve's face, but didn't move away. She supported her position with a hand on his chest, and folded her legs under her so she was kneeling. It hurt her bad leg, but she wasn't wearing her brace, so she could manage it for a couple minutes. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, Steve."

Steve placed a hand over Quinn's where it sat on his chest. Her eyes flicked down to the point of contact and when she looked back up at Steve, she found his eyes locked to her face, gaze soft and a barely-there smile on his lips as his eyes moved over her, tracing the line of her cheek, her jaw. He ran his thumb lightly over the back of her hand, and a shock went from her hand, up her arm, and down into her stomach, stirring butterflies to life. She felt her cheeks begin to darken again, and one corner of her mouth twitched.

She wanted to lean into Steve, press her face into his neck, breathe deep the warm smell of him. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to tell her he was thinking, feeling the same things she was. She wanted—

This moment wasn't about her.

"I know I don't have to, Quinn," he said, voice cracking slightly and pulling her out of her thoughts. "But I want to tell you about my life back then. I want you to know." He adjusted the way the blanket was draped across her shoulders in her new position, his hands sliding down her arms. "I want you to know about everyone—Dr. Erskine, the Howling Commandos, Peggy, Bucky—and I want you to know who I was before the serum." He grinned. "And I want you to hear it from me and not a file."

Quinn's answering smile was soft; her cheeks flushed hotter. "I would like very much to hear about your life back then," she whispered. She'd always appreciated the bits he'd told her, the little stories about her great-grandfather and about his life, and she'd always wanted to know more. There were so many things she wanted to ask him, and knowing that he wanted to tell her… She wouldn't push though. "Whenever you're ready to tell me."

Steve gave her another of his small, private smiles and brushed some of the dark hair that had come loose from her braid back from her face with his free hand, tucking it behind her ear. That hand came to rest cupping Quinn's cheek, his touch light as his thumb ran along her cheekbone. Quinn leaned into his hand, enjoying the slight shiver his touch sent through her. They were approaching that line again, the one they'd toed at Halloween, and she was questioning her earlier conviction that Steve didn't feel it too. There'd been no real lead-up to the kiss at Halloween, no moments to wonder if a kiss was actually coming—it had just happened. Quinn was once again glad of the dim light hiding her blush. And Steve's; she knew by the way he tilted his head towards the ground that he was blushing as well.

"Thank you, Quinn," he said as his hand fell away from her face. His voice, like hers, was quiet, neither of them wanting to do anything to break the moment. Though he was still blushing, there was a new darkness in his eyes, one that burned through Quinn. "You are…" His eyes never left hers as he searched for what to say. "You're one of a kind."

Quinn smiled wider, the blush flaring hot with new life. "So are you." A small laugh came from Steve's lips, his hand dropping back to cover hers. Quinn's heart hammered in her chest, echoed in her ears. "Steve…"

He squeezed her hand where it still rested on his chest, and he placed his free hand tentatively on her side. Quinn leaned towards him, responding to the slight pressure from his hand and the look in Steve's eyes. She stopped with only two inches or so between them. All Quinn could think about were Steve's lips and what they felt like pressed against hers, what they tasted like.

"Steve…" she said again, voice barely audible.

"I'd like to kiss you," he whispered.

It was almost exactly what Quinn had said at Halloween. Her cheeks flared hotter and she smiled, just a small curve of her lips. "Okay." The word came out barely audible.

Quinn just caught the smirk before Steve closed the distance between them, his lips brushing hers before he kissed her—a light touch that ignited the desire inside Quinn, the desire she'd been stuffing down and trying to ignore for so long, a desire she now knew Steve definitely shared. A small noise of surprise at the force of that desire escaped her throat, and Steve froze, just for a heartbeat, until Quinn returned the kiss.

It wasn't like the abrupt kiss at Halloween. It was slow, exploratory, thorough. It was still shocking, but only because Quinn couldn't believe it was happening again, and she eagerly sunk into it.

She put a hand on either side of his face, holding him to her as the kiss turned into something deeper, something fuelled by months of tension and lust. After a few delirious seconds of kissing, Quinn disengaged, but only long enough to move into Steve's lap, straddling his hips, and relieving some of the pressure on her left leg. Steve's cheeks flushed a deep red at having her that close, in that position, but he returned Quinn's kiss eagerly when she lowered her lips to his, as her tongue slid into his mouth. His hands slid down Quinn's sides to her hips. Quinn wrapped her arms around his neck, the fingers of one hand sliding into his hair, the other holding on to his shirt.

They broke apart to breathe, and Quinn dropped her forehead against his. She couldn't stop smiling. "I didn't expect Captain America to be able to kiss like _that_."

"Did you spend much time thinking about it?" His voice was thicker than normal. The tip of his nose brushed her cheek.

Quinn leaned into him. "Maybe."

Steve tilted his head and captured her lips again, his arms wrapping around Quinn's waist to pull her against him. Her heart hammered harder, her blood rushed in her ears, and she never wanted the kissing to cease.

Steve's hands slid up her back, underneath her sweater and the t-shirt beneath. His touch on her bare skin thrilled through her, spurred her on. She kissed Steve harder, pressing her chest against his, drawing a soft noise from his throat. Quinn drew his bottom lip between her teeth as she pulled back to get another breath, but Steve didn't let her get far, pulling her back to him with his mouth and his hands on her back. Quinn laughed low in her throat at his eagerness, more than happy to sink back into it. Her knees tightened reflexively against his hips and he twitched beneath her, making his growing excitement evident.

Quinn loved that she was able to do that to Captain America.

His kisses moved from her lips, along her jaw and down her neck—small nips and the gentle scrape of teeth, whether intentional or not, brought small noises from Quinn's throat and urged Steve on. She slipped her hands between them and under Steve's t-shirt, fingertips skating over the hard planes of his stomach and sides.

Steve tensed as her fingers hit his skin. "Your hands are cold," he muttered against her neck.

Quinn splayed her hands wide on his back. With her lips to Steve's ear, she said, "They'll warm up. You are a space heater, remember?" She felt Steve's laugh more than she heard it, and then he was kissing her again.

Quinn pulled his shirt off and ran her hands down his chest, pressing lightly with her nails, delighting in finally being able to touch him; she had dreamed of what he would feel like.

Steve kissed her harder, teeth scraping her bottom lip, and Quinn's hips rocked involuntarily. Steve groaned. He pushed the blankets from Quinn's shoulders and seized her sweater and shirt and all but yanked them off over her head when he realized she was struggling to get out from under the layers, sending her braid flying to smack against his shoulder. Quinn was laughing softly when she was freed from the clothing, and though the cold wasn't reaching her, she couldn't stop the appearance of goosebumps. She kissed Steve again, pressing her bare skin to his, moaning with the new sensation, savouring the warmth spreading from him into her.

Her head began to swim with the heady mix of the kissing, of Steve's hands on her, her hands on him, the feel of him hard between her legs. Steve's hands slid along her stomach and sides and up, where his thumbs tentatively brushed sides of her breasts. Quinn arched her back, silently urging him on as their kissing continued. After another heartbeat or two of hesitation, he cupped her breasts over the lacy fabric of her bra and squeezed gently, his thumbs sliding across her nipples, hard from arousal and the cold. Quinn's entire body shuddered. She moaned against his mouth, her hips rocking against his, this time on purpose. He repeated the motion. The breaths they drew between kisses became pants, gasps. The heat between them was intense.

And still she wanted more.

Quinn wanted more of Steve's skin against hers, wanted to feel him inside her. Steve wrapped one of his arms around Quinn's waist just as the thought crossed her mind, and shifted position so he could lift her and lay her on the couch; they didn't stop kissing for even a heartbeat. He kissed her throat, her collarbone. She arched her back as his hands slid over her body, impatient, small noises coming from her lips. Steve's kisses were spaced unevenly, but he moved thoughtfully, gauged her reactions with each touch of his lips.

It was far too much and not nearly enough.

Quinn drew Steve back up so they were looking at each other again. She held his gaze for a few rapid heartbeats and then kissed him, a hand on either side of his face.

It was when Steve's hand brushed her scarred thigh that Quinn's mind kicked into overdrive.

Steve must have sensed something of her thoughts, or maybe some hesitation she thought she'd hidden, because he stopped kissing her. Maybe he felt hesitant too. That was more likely. His hands went still on her sides, and hers stopped on his chest. For a moment, they remained staring at each other, wide-eyed, from less than three inches away, both bathed in the golden light of the candles and exposed from the waist up.

Quinn was suddenly hyper-conscious of the fact she was just in her bra and leggings and had just been making out with Captain America—that she had been about a minute away from having sex with Captain America. Her blush spread up to her ears and down to the top of her chest. It seemed a ridiculous reaction, but she couldn't help it.

She opened her mouth, but it was Steve who spoke.

"Quinn, this is— We shouldn't— I mean—"

She laughed, suddenly and loud. She covered her mouth, blushed deeper. Steve looked a little panicked, but his mind was exactly where her's was. "This could be a really bad idea and might ruin what we have?" she offered. "This could be especially bad since you're moving?"

Steve's cheeks flushed again and he sat back, extending his hands to Quinn to help her sit up. He grabbed the discarded blankets from the floor and wrapped them around her shoulders again, covering her exposed and cold skin. His fingers slid along the front of her shoulders as he pulled the blankets into place, and his eyes dropped to her chest. "Yeah," he said, sounding both relieved and disappointed, which was exactly how Quinn felt. He sighed and sat back, his cheeks darkening to crimson. "That, and I… Quinn, I've never done anything like that before with anyone. I'm a virgin." He didn't sound ashamed, just hesitant, as if he wasn't sure what she'd do with the information or how she'd react.

"Oh, uh…" From all she did know about him, it made sense, but she'd never been in this situation before. She clutched the blanket. "I… I'm not sure what to say, Steve, but thanks for trusting me with that." It sounded awkward to her, and she immediately began to backpedal, to try and find words that felt better. "That sounds weird— All I mean is that I know it's not always easy for people to share that information, and I don't know what it was like in the 1940s, but now it can—"

The blush faded as Steve chuckled. "Quinn, it's okay."

She returned his smile, but fell silent.

Another beat of silence passed, where they looked at each other and continued to blush. Steve handed Quinn her t-shirt and sweater and then pulled on his own, and when they were both clothed and had mostly calmed down, Steve sat back on the couch and drew Quinn to him. She curled up against his side and he wrapped his arm around her after draping a blanket back over her. Quinn wrapped her arms around his middle. He pressed his lips to her temple and just like that, they were comfortable, only lingering hints of awkwardness and lust colouring the moment.

"I don't want to jeopardize what we have," Steve said quietly. "You've been there for me since I woke up from the ice, and I know I would have had a much worse time adjusting to the twenty-first century if you weren't assigned to my case. I… I don't want to lose what we have if something happens between us, and I don't want to lose you."

"Me either," she said. Quinn pressed her cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt. "You've only been in the twenty-first century for seven months or so too, and haven't had a lot of time to yourself, and…"

His arm tightened around her. "And I'm leaving New York."

"And you're leaving."

"Maybe we should have talked about that more," Steve said with a small smile.

"Maybe." Quinn sighed and shifted so she could stretch her bad leg out on the couch. "That was really something, though." Quinn looked up at Steve, her hand balling around his shirt again. She tried really hard not to focus on the heat of him, on how it had felt to have that heat pressed against her skin.

"It was."

"But I don't think it's time for that yet."

Quinn paused. She wasn't sure why she'd said that. She'd been trying to remain light, casual. Those hadn't been the words she'd had in her mind.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his fingers firm against her side. "Yet?"

Quinn decided to lean into the slip. She smiled and raised herself up so she could kiss Steve on the lips softly. He kissed her back and their lips lingered as they pulled apart, their breaths mingling. Steve's nose brushed her cheek again. It was hard not to do more; by the tightening of his grip on her side, she guessed Steve was fighting the same urge.

She didn't want to push him, no matter how strong the pull was between them, because Steve was right. Becoming more could ruin everything.

Steve didn't have many people he trusted, and he was still adjusting to everything that was new. And, after the Battle of New York, things had finally mostly settled. He and Quinn had a routine, a routine that would have to adapt once he moved, but a routine nonetheless, and were comfortable with one another. She liked being the person he came to, that he thought her collection of Captain America stuff was funny and endearing if a little weird, and she liked that he was always willing to help her with anything he could. And Quinn, after losing her mentor, friend, and surrogate father, was finally starting to feel normal again, and it was largely because of Steve and the routine they'd established over the summer. Steve's friendship was important to her. One of the most important things in her life. She didn't want to lose that.

But that kiss, his hands on her… Her heart fluttered and she leaned into Steve, nuzzling against his chest, breathing deep the comforting and familiar scent of him. His arm tightened around her again and he leaned his head on hers.

Maybe one day, when Steve felt truly comfortable in the twenty-first century, and had time to experience more on his own, and Quinn was settled in her new position as SHIELD liaison to the Avengers and was feeling like her old self, maybe then… it would be time. Maybe then, she could handle something as intense as what the feelings Steve brought out in her. Maybe then, they'd both be ready to risk it.

Quinn smiled against Steve, finally warm. "Yet."

"Well you just let me know when," Steve whispered.

"I will."


End file.
